


Supernanny

by lackluster_lexicon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lackluster_lexicon/pseuds/lackluster_lexicon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve lands himself in bed with some broken ribs, and Tony is tasked with taking care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supernanny

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maxspiritangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxspiritangel/gifts).



> Belated birthday gift fic for maxspiritangel! I'm sorry it's so...just...BAD. And late. I'll make it up to you someday!

“Tony, I’m fine. Just…go to your workshop, do what you need to do. You’re making me nervous.” 

Tony frowned and pulled his arms tighter against his chest but remained seated, his right leg bouncing manically. Steve hadn’t made eye contact with him since he’d arrived – highly uncharacteristic, to be sure – and Tony was having none of it. Supernanny he may not be, but if there was one thing Tony hated more than the pressure of taking care of a bedridden teammate, it was the ever-present fear of failure. He was going to take care of Steve per Nick Fury’s orders, goddammit, and he was going to do it _perfectly_. 

“Hey, I was given a job, Spangles. Maybe if you didn’t make it a habit of _jumping off of things_ – ” 

“I didn’t jump, I was pushed – ” 

“ – and forgetting that you can’t fly – ” 

“ – or shot, more accurately.” That shut Tony up. “By something like six of those energy blasts at once, I might add.” 

Tony rolled his eyes and leaned forward, unfolding his arms to prop his elbows on his knees. He didn’t miss Steve’s sigh of relief. 

“What?” 

“Your leg. The bouncing.” 

Perhaps in poor form, Tony narrowed his eyes, studied Steve. They were dancing around something, and while Tony was perfectly aware of what he was avoiding – namely, that he was very acutely aware of his inability to healthily take care of himself, much less of his lack of recent experience taking care of another human being without driving them up the wall with his somewhat eccentric shows of affection – he couldn’t quite place what was bugging Steve. And while their relationship had been on the upswing since the Chitauri incident, and especially since Tony had renovated Stark Tower to house the Avengers, Tony would still forget that he could simply ask Steve what was wrong. He had decades of fantasies about Captain-America-the-Legend to reconcile with the reality of Steve-Rogers-the-Man, who was the essence of everything Captain America was – justice, liberty, all that jazz – but with the alarming addition of being a human being. He enjoyed hot dogs and beer and watched old black-and-white “films” and swore like a sailor on the field and had nightmares and demons and secrets… 

It was jarring, but it was also inspring because that made him accessible, even if the idea of attempting to woo the Star-Spangled Man himself was more daunting than that of tending to Steve while he was bedridden with some broken ribs. And it was, which was why Tony seemed to be botching this chance at connecting, but he couldn’t help it; connection was scary, and when Tony got scared, he snarked. 

“Yikes. If that gets you nervous, you might be losing your edge, old man.” 

Steve glared at Tony, who was pretty sure he could feel some kind of pressure building between them. 

Shit. 

“You’re a smart guy, Tony. And a sneaky one. I know you know what my life was like before I became Captain America.” 

Of course he did. Skinny, sickly, orphaned – it was all in the dossier Howard had left behind and the personnel files SHIELD may or may not have unwittingly granted him access to. And before Steve spoke, Tony knew exactly where he was going. 

“After my parents died, I had a friend who took care of me when I got sick, which was pretty damn often. I’d be stuck in bed for days, and he would stay by the side almost the entire time except when he would steal to pay for my drugs or food…all because he wanted to.” 

“Steve – ” 

Steve raised a hand, very effectively cutting Tony off. 

“If you want to be here, that’s one thing, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay just because Fury told you to. I know this isn’t your thing, and I’m going to be on my feet in a couple days, anyway, so please. Just…go do whatever you’d rather be doing, and I’ll see you at dinner.” 

Ow. Even knowing it was coming, Tony couldn’t ignore the stutter of his heart. Rationally, he knew he wasn’t being shooed away, but Steve’s words stung nevertheless as they demonstrated to Tony that, once again, he was masking his intentions with aloofness and sarcasm. And that he was kind of an insensitive jerk. Of course Steve wouldn’t want anyone doting on him; he was supposed to be past this now, the beacon of strength without needing anyone’s support. Tony could recognize the lone gunslinger act when he saw it. 

"Steve.” 

This time Steve’s hands remained flat on the bed, though he raised his eyebrows slightly to indicate that he was listening. 

“I…it’s not that I don’t want to be here. It’s just that…I don’t know how. Pepper can tell you, and Happy. And Rhodey. Or, hell, JARVIS is right here – er, but the point is that…” 

Tony flapped his hands as he groped for words, came up empty, and scrubbed at his face with a groan. 

“I get it, Tony.” 

Tony looked up to find Steve smiling – a sort of sad smile, but still warm and understanding and a _smile_ nonetheless – and dropped his hands. 

“Machines are easy,” Steve continued. “When they break, you fix them. And there’s no resentment, no ‘I scratched your back, now you scratch mine,’ no codependence.” 

The corners of Tony’s lips quirked upward, and he didn’t miss when Steve mirrored the movement. 

“Okay, maybe some codependence in your case. But the point is that I get it: taking care of someone like this is stressful. Intimate. But I want you to know, for what it’s worth, that I asked for you personally.” 

Well, that got Tony’s eyebrows leaping into his hairline. 

“You did?” 

“Yeah.” Steve laughed lightly, undoubtedly at the shock that Tony was clearly failing to hide. “Tony, I trust you with my life. I think you can handle making sure I get my three square meals a day and don’t get out of bed until I get Bruce’s blessing.” 

Tony smirked. “Keeping people in bed _is_ a talent of mine.” 

Steve rolled his eyes again, but his smile remained. “You are shameless. Shouldn’t you at least wait until my ribs are healed before you proposition me?” 

“Maybe. You interested?” 

“I’ll get back to you on that.” Steve sat up and gingerly swung his legs over the side of the bed so he was facing Tony. “First things first – it’s time to change my dressing.” 

And damn if Steve didn’t look a little coy himself. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.


End file.
